


Wish Me A Sweet Goodnight

by Shock_Value



Series: Good Shit From Me [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Colorblind GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Mid 1900s, Murder, Poisoning, Slow Dancing, Stabbing, Unhealthy Relationships, idk they kiss and murder each other as do most in any homoerotic meeting, in a way that is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shock_Value/pseuds/Shock_Value
Summary: "Out of fear you made me think about how long it would take you to bleed out if some man saw you do that and had decided to play into his own fear and hatred and had come to kill you before your own god could."
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Good Shit From Me [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171154
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Wish Me A Sweet Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> Took a small break from writing hope you enjoy.

"It seems that I have been poisoned."

George smiles, lips to a sparkling glass rim and eyes full of mirth and misguided importance where he believes he may sit on a high throne. Where Dream had placed him on this high throne, one that only he knows is made out of pomegranate seeds and soft whispers of love and gratitude for the other man for he crafted it himself.

George, in short jerks of his head and drunken power, answers, "And you have yet to keel over."

Dream smiles, tears at the corners of his eyes, and coughs just a small bit, "Seems not, care to tell me when I will?"

George may gesture to him with his head, smile never faltering and gaze never shifting from the small fire in the corner of the room, but he flinches when the thunder rumbles. He bits his lip, licks at the small amount of blood but only to spread it, a tempt at Dream as he rests his tight fist against the arms of his cushioned chair, wondering if it would taste any different when on the verge of death. George likes the taste but knows Dream loves it.

"Maybe a couple hours."

Dream grants George a short laugh, "And why is that? When you so obviously have such more quick acting poisons? If you want me so much to  _ die _ ?" Dream felt a distant bitterness, heard it leak into his words. He can feel it bubble in his warm chest, he’s not quite sure where the warmth came from, however. Inebriation or the somehow unfailing desire to live in George’s story.

George’s smile falters with his eyes, “It’s not that I want you to die.” He says in a sweet voice.

“Then what is it?”

“I just want to see what you would do.”

Dream stiffly leans back in his chair, unbelieving and yet all too sure that this was how he was always meant to go. This was always where he was meant to be from his very first breath. Or maybe a little later then that, maybe when his eyes first set their gaze on George he was doomed and he only had one road to travel beyond that point.

George peers at him, wonder in his eyes and soft breath drying the blood on his lips, “So?”

And Dream sits and thinks. The fire crackles, sounding far more distant then it had before but the warmth made it feel far closer.

Dream considers, what had he wanted to do before he died? What was something he could do now with the last few hours ticking away at his life?

He bites his thumb softly, thinking of what would please George. That’s where he was meant to be wasn’t it? Not everyone has a great destiny, just a home where they can drift in the arms of their loved ones and build an idea that it was meant to be even if it never left the walls of their mahogany dwelling

Dream stands, swirling on his feet, letting every piece of him loose for George to see and watch as he makes his final decisions.

He carefully wanders to the old record player and shifts his dry hands across the many vinyl's before finding the one. One that he had heard George humming along to as if he were the steel wire of the grand piano himself. The first few notes had always taken Dream by surprise, whether that was George’s doing or the composer of the original piece. Out of the corner of his eye he could see pink dust fall over George’s face and he smiles inwardly at himself.

Setting the needle on the record and letting it pick up the notes and play had always been Dream’s favorite part of turning on the player.

He made his way back to George who had closed his eyes and drifted lightly in the music and giggled in the manner Dream always loved.

Dream kicks George’s foot lightly to make sure he could see him before bowing, a single hand behind his back, at the tail of his waistcoat, another held out to George as an offer, “Care for a dance?”

George could have sworn Dream’s eyes became a sparkling honey liquor.

And George gives him his delicate hands that poisoned his wine, Dream met George’s knuckles with a promise from his lips. On any other day Dream believed George would have never let that happen, but perhaps this one day was special.

Dream lifted George from his chair, guiding his glace down to the side table behind him and laced his fingers with the now empty ones. Not sure how much farther he could go.

George softly positioned one of Dream’s hands on his shoulder, pausing for a second to bounce his fingers on his skin along with the music before placing his own hand on Dream’s waist, guiding them back and forth and drowsily whispering nothing to the air. Dream’s head finds its way onto George’s shoulder in a sleepy haze. 

“Do you remember when we first met?” George brushes his lips against Dream’s hair and all Dream can do in response is nod dumbly, almost nuzzling into George’s neck. George laughs at him, or with him but Dream couldn’t laugh, keeping him upright, feeling Dream’s muscles letting go.

George brings his head down, smile lining up with Dream’s cheek before he continues.

“It was  _ the _ dinner party. The one where the cook lost a tooth in the host’s final course but no one knew until the party was over.” Dream nods again. “Your sister had greeted me as an old friend and you insisted on talking to me after becoming curious on how I could mistake your sister’s emerald jewelry as heliodor.

“You didn’t let me leave and we found conversation for hours. You had brushed my hand a few times, something that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed but you chose me to try it out on. I could have easily said some slanderous things to get you to leave me alone after than but something about you and the way your sister left us to meet that made me want to keep you around for a bit longer. Then after dinner you bid me a farewell resembling one that I’ve only heard in old literature and Shakespeare.”

Dream left a shallow kiss at the base of George’s neck. A hand cupped his cheek, the thumb of it wet with blood from George’s lip.

“I almost went half mad trying to find you again, considering you didn’t give me your real name, until I realized I could write to your sister and ask for dinner with you.”

Dream hummed a small bit before slurring a soft sorry, one that George would ever hear where he came from.

George’s tone changed to soft as he slurred back, “S’okay, you’re special.” And Dream couldn’t decipher if it held any derogatory sense in it but he found that deep down he didn’t care.

George leaned back a little, Dream realizing that he was drooping in the other’s arms and their swaying had slowed a considerable amount by the fact Dream has simply stopped helping George in it, he moves Dream’s arms around his shoulders, getting blood on Dream’s sleeves, brushing his lips against Dream’s cheek in the process.

Dream can feel the piano resonate in him, even with the soft scratching of the record. A tear drips down Dream’s face, he’s unsure if it’s his or George’s and confused as to why either of them would be crying.  _ They were perfect. _

“Do you remember when you took me down south to those warm beaches you always talked so fondly of?” George played with the hair on the back of Dream’s neck, tickling him in a soothing way. A way that Dream felt like he may have missed when he was too consumed by beauty to have been aware of it. “You kissed me so softly on my lips that I got scared and told you to never do it again. I told you you may do anything else, use me or lead me to my demise but never kiss me on the lips and you never did.

You used me while we were on that trip but in ways that made me feel like I was your only god and I loved that, Dream. You handed me everything and lifted me up and I was so tempted to leave you down on the shores with the warm water flowing over your sun heated skin. Out of fear you made me think about how long it would take for you to bleed out if some man saw you do that and had decided to play into his own fear and hatred and had come to kill you before your own god could. I couldn’t live with that.”

George kissed Dream fully, blood coming through the dried old and even though the music may have stopped quite a few minutes ago Dream could still hear it. He was right to believe George tasted better on the brink of death. He struggles out a breath as he tries to suck on the taste because he’s never felt so full of everything before and maybe he was right to create George as a god.

Dream could feel his legs for a second as they found themselves on the floor, a mess of blood and tears and eventual death built on the base of false idolization or true love.

“I asked your sister if I could poison you and paint us in a forever still life of who we are in people's words.”

George stops but Dream isn’t sure if he expects an answer, he just holds him close and tight. Dream kisses the hollow of George’s neck like he’s never needed anything more gentle in his life.

“She gave me her blessing only if you got to take mine with you and my penmanship has never been so crude in gleeful wonder of how I’d let you do it, because you will.” Dream breathes it in and he can smell the sea and taste the brown of George’s eyes.

“I have a knife for you.” Dream can hear the tears in George’s face but can also feel the joy, it’s infectious.

“I am going to give it to you, and if you could kiss me like I asked you not to all those months ago, and wish me a sweet goodnight like you did all those years ago, you may take me with you and we can be forever laden in each other’s embrace and our names can be the last thing on our dying lips.”

Over the next couple of minutes a dagger, with emeralds and heliodor dazzling the hilt, was placed into his hands where they reside at the base of George’s spine, where Dream can feel George’s soft joy and George takes his heavy head in his hands and lets more blood trickle between them as they kiss in from of a dead fire where the embers sit glowing softer than their lightest touches. The rain and thunder that had existed and had been mostly ignored disappearing into nothing.

And Dream rests his head on George’s chest, gazing into George’s eyes with his own honey ones.

“I love you, George. Goodnight.”

And all George says as a sharpened dagger enters his stomach through his back is Dream’s name and he hums away the pain with the soft tune of the old piano.

Dream can feel the steel strings in his no longer beating heart and the warm yet dead touch of George’s love.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated :)


End file.
